Illogical
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Set shortly after Patient H-18. Bluestreak is about to discover the wonder of computer-crashes...


Perceptor was working, like always. However, he wasn't in his lab as one might have expected. In fact, he was working inside Ratchet's repair-bay.

It was true that the repair-bay wasn't the best place for a scientist to work, though it was well-equipped. It was just that Perceptor didn't have all that many choices either. His laboratory had suffered a lot of damages during the Decepticon's last attack, so the working conditions there were nigh impossible. Of course, he could have always asked Wheeljack to let him work in _his_ lab, but it wasn't the best idea to have highly explosive mechanisms close to _extremely_ sensitive chemicals.

Thus, Perceptor went for the next best option. Ratchet was courteous enough to let the scientist work in the repair-bay, but only when Ratchet himself wasn't busy taking care of any injured mechs. It was a logical request, so Perceptor agreed to it without much fuss.

And today, it was one of those Primus-blessed days that Ratchet didn't have any patients to attend to. Considering that to be quite the golden opportunity, Perceptor planned to make the most out of things.

He certainly didn't expect to hear a set of footfalls coming hurriedly towards the repair-bay. And his surprise quickly changed to concern when he heard a mech calling out Ratchet's name and then the repeated chime of the call button – a sign that whoever was pressing the button was in quite the agitated state.

Deciding that things were probably serious and that he should try to help somehow, Perceptor opened the door.

He came face to face with a silver mech, whose helm was adorned by a pair of red chevrons.

Right. One of the new recruits. Bluestreak, if Perceptor's memory served him right.

And, curiously enough, he was now carrying Prowl in his arms.

But what was even more curious was the fact that the tactician's gaze was fixed on nowhere in particular, and he was mumbling something that could only be interpreted as: "I don't get it."

"Err… what--?"

But Perceptor never finished his sentence, because Bluestreak turned out to be faster.

A lot faster.

"Oh! It's you, Perceptor! I'm sorry to bother you, but it's really important that I see Ratchet, 'cause something happened while Prowl and I were at the shooting range and Prowl got like this and I'm afraid that it's serious, but I don't know how to help him. Do you think Ratchet will be able to fix him? I hope so, although I have a bad feeling that both he and Prowl we'll be mad at me because of what happened and--"

Feeling his cranial units already reeling at the verbal torrent, Perceptor cleared his vocaliser in a polite manner.

Apparently, that was also the usual reaction Bluestreak got whenever he was on the verge of babbling, because the young one stopped at once.

"I'm sorry. But…" And at that, Bluestreak half-shrugged, nodding at the still mumbling Prowl. "I'm worried. So… could you please tell Ratchet what's going on?"

Perceptor sighed. "You don't have a transmitter installed, do you?"

Bluestreak shook his head. "Ratchet said that I didn't need one yet, since I'm still just a recruit."

"I see," the scientist said. He beckoned Bluestreak to enter the repair-bay. "Come on. You can place Prowl on the surgical table and I'll contact Ratchet."

"Okay," the young mech said, complying at once. As for Perceptor, he turned on his transmitter to talk to Ratchet.

"Right. What is it?" Ratchet asked. He didn't sound happy at all.

"You'll have to forgive my indiscretion, but it couldn't wait," Perceptor said. "There's something amiss with Prowl's functions."

There was a small pause, and Perceptor somehow knew that the medic was actually frowning at the news.

"What are the symptoms?" Ratchet finally asked.

"Well," Perceptor said, looking briefly at Prowl and Bluestreak's direction, "He has a blank stare in his optics, and he keeps mumbling: 'I don't get it.'"

"Oh, this is just perfect!" Ratchet declared sarcastically. "Did you find him like that?"

"No, not really," Perceptor replied. "Bluestreak brought him to your repair-bay. And I must say that the young one is quite concerned."

Perceptor heard a very heavy sigh at the other end of the link. "Perceptor, do you remember what Prowl's little... problem… is?"

The scientist blinked, not really understanding what Ratchet was trying to tell him. That is, until realisation caught up with him. His optics widened in surprise.

"Oh dear… it's his logic circuits, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately," Ratchet said. "Look, Perceptor, I'm in the middle of discussing something very important with Prime and Wheeljack and I can't leave at the moment. Tell Bluestreak that there's nothing to worry about and I'll be there as soon as I can, all right?"

"Of course," Perceptor said. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Ratchet out."

Once the conversation reached its end, Perceptor turned off the transmitter and turned to Bluestreak.

"Well?" the young mech asked, looking at Perceptor with wide open optics. "Is Ratchet coming?"

"Yes, he is," Perceptor said. "But you shouldn't fret. Prowl's condition is unusual, but not life-threatening."

Bluestreak nodded his understanding, but it was clear there was something puzzling him.

"You make it sound as though it has happened before."

Perceptor chuckled. "I had heard about it, but I must admit that this is the first time that I've actually witnessed it." He looked at Bluestreak with an expression that resembled an old professor's during a lecture. "Do you know anything about computer crashes?"

Bluestreak pursed his lips in a thoughtful manner. "Not really. What are they?"

"Exactly what the name implies," Perceptor explained. "There are times that a mech's processor can be very sensitive to too much stimuli or information and cannot compute them properly. When that happens, the processor temporarily shuts down and… well, this is the result." He pointed at Prowl, who was still mumbling and staring dumbly at the ceiling.

"So that's what's happened to Prowl?" Bluestreak exclaimed.

"Indeed. Though, in Prowl's case, things are a bit different. Since his processor is built so as to regard everything from a logical perspective, his computer crashes when he tries to apply reason to a situation that is, in fact, illogical."

Bluestreak's optics reflected the young mech's realisation. "You mean… like what happened at the shooting range?"

"Most probably," Perceptor said. "Although I can't help but wonder what exactly happened there."

Bluestreak shuffled his legs in an uneasy manner. "Um… I'd rather I didn't say."

"Nevertheless, it's important. It will help me and Ratchet understand what caused Prowl's computer to crash like that, so it doesn't happen again. You don't want that to happen to Prowl a second time, do you?"

Bluestreak shook his head.

"Then tell me."

Bluestreak thought about it for several minutes; then heaved a sigh. "Okay. Well… this morning, Prowl decided it was high time I started learning how to use a gun, so…"

____________________

"_Are you sure about this, Prowl? I mean, if you aren't sure, it's okay; we can put off the lesson for some other time. You must have tons of things to do anyway and I don't want to keep you or anything…"_

"_Bluestreak, it's perfectly fine," Prowl said, cutting into the young mech's stream of babbling. "Jazz and Ironhide have taken up my duties for today."_

"_Oh." Bluestreak still walked next to the tactician, wringing his hands nervously. "But I haven't used a gun before. What if I miss?"_

"_It will only be natural."_

"_Mirage never misses," Bluestreak pointed out mournfully. _

"_Unlike you, he's been hunting turbo-foxes almost all his life," Prowl said. His lips tugged to a small smile. "That's why _you _need shooting lessons."_

"_But what if I do something wrong?" Bluestreak insisted. "What if I fire at you by accident? What if the gun suddenly goes off on me? What if I--?"_

_Without losing any of his temper, Prowl placed a hand over Bluestreak's mouth, thus effectively silencing the young mech._

"_That's why I'm here with you; so none of those things will happen," he said calmly. "Any more objections?"_

_Bluestreak shook his head._

"_Good." And with that, Prowl let go of Bluestreak, and they both entered the shooting range. _

_Bluestreak was more than relieved when he saw that the place was empty. If anything, he wouldn't have to suffer any mocking looks in case he blundered – which was a certainty, no matter what Prowl said._

_Still, Bluestreak appreciated what the other mech was doing for him, so he intended to do his best. That was why he listened carefully to everything that Prowl told him about guns, including how to do a maintenance check on them and even how to handle them. And Bluestreak had to admit that things weren't as bad as he had expected them to be._

_That is, until Prowl declared it was high time he held the gun and aimed the first target. A part of Bluestreak wanted to bolt at that moment. _

_But, if Prowl noticed that, he certainly didn't show it. He simply gave Bluestreak the gun and told him how to aim correctly._

"_So… I just shoot now?" Bluestreak asked, pointing the gun at the target that was several feet away from him._

"_There's no rush," Prowl answered. He put his hands on Bluestreak's shoulders to smooth the young mech's tension away. "First relax; then wait for the moment that you can only see the target… and squeeze the trigger."_

"_Okay," Bluestreak said, mentally chiding himself to relax already. He glared at the target, trying to shut out the rest of his surroundings. His fingers twitched impatiently, but he didn't let his emotions run away with him. _

_There was no rush. He had to be patient. He had to wait till he only saw…_

"_Laserbeak!"_

"_WHERE?!"_

__________________________

"… and I got so scared at Prowl's cry that I practically jumped. But I also pulled the trigger by accident and the laserfire shot up in the air, hitting Laserbeak in the process and making him explode and most of his parts to crash on the targets. And then Prowl…"

But Perceptor was now looking at Bluestreak in a very weird way. Bluestreak stopped, feeling suddenly very self-conscious.

"Uh… Perceptor?"

"How did Laserbeak get so far inside Iacon?" the scientist asked slowly.

Bluestreak blinked in surprise. "You know, that's kind of funny. That's exactly what Prowl asked before he--"

_Bzzt._

Bluestreak froze and stared at Perceptor incredulously, because that sound came from the red mech.

And now Perceptor's expression was blank.

"Perceptor?" Bluestreak tapped the scientist slightly on the shoulder.

Perceptor merely fell on the floor, very much like a stiff board.

"Not again…" Bluestreak said with a sigh.

_Epilogue_

After placing Perceptor on another surgeon's table, Bluestreak waited patiently for Ratchet to finally walk into the repair-bay. The medic was quite perplexed to see _two _mechs with their computers crashed, and he only got even more puzzled when Bluestreak refused under any circumstances to say what happened.

But, in the end, Ratchet decided that he should let Bluestreak have it his way. He dismissed the young mech, reassuring him that Prowl and Perceptor would be as good as new in less than an hour. Feeling somewhat comforted, Bluestreak walked out and headed for his dorms in order to forget about his bad morning.

It was on his way there that a red mech approached him. Bluestreak had seen the particular mech several times before in the company of his twin brother, but Bluestreak didn't have the chance to speak with either of them; he was a bit intimidated by their brashness.

That was why Bluestreak regarded the red mech quite sceptically when the latter patted him on the shoulder with a broad smile and said: "Nice reflexes. Keep it up and you'll be an excellent gunner in no time."

However, everything fell into place when the red mech walked away, and Bluestreak noticed him holding Laserbeak's parts.

Or rather, something that was built to _resemble _Laserbeak, and even had a piece of wire attached to its back to keep it suspended in the air.

Bluestreak slapped his forehead and groaned.

**The End**


End file.
